Warm
by Javanyet
Summary: Nick is drawn to a more mortal level in his relationship with Maura despite his doubts.
1. Chapter 1

1"This might be the answer to your body-heat issue," Natalie told Nick a few days later when he'd visited her lab. In her hand was a small vial of clear fluid.

"Vodka? Not my style."

"Ha, ha. It's a capsicum distillate, a vegetable extract. It would take too long to explain how I think it'll work. You'll just have to trust me."

He smiled, "I always trust you," as he took the vial from her and regarded it quizzically. "Capsicum. Like capsaicin? The stuff that makes peppers hot."

"Well it's related. Anyway, a shot of this at regular intervals should keep your temperature constant. I'm not exactly sure what the 'dosage' should be, though, so start light, okay?"

He handed the vial back to her. "Well it sounds promising, but what do I do with it?"

"Put a drop or two in your bottle when you drink, it should work with your own metabolism's reaction to the blood and then sustain it."

Nick looked uncertain. "I'm not sure how my system would react to hemoglobin chili." Natalie rolled her eyes.

"Colorless and flavorless, I promise. The worst that could happen is nothing at all. I'll brew up a bunch more once we know how it's gonna work. But this will be fine to get started."

Nick pocketed the tiny bottle with a shrug, trying to control his hopes for success. "Thanks Nat. You know, it's not just for Maura's sake. For once I'd like to shake hands with someone and _not_ have them ask me if I'm ill."

She steered him to the lab door. "Cold hands, warm heart. Let me know how it works. Now get lost, I have work to do."

Maura was getting ready for work when he got home.

"'sup? Been to see Nat?" Maura was very glad indeed that Nick and Natalie had salvaged the friendship that her arrival had disrupted. She liked Natalie, and knew she really only wanted the best for Nick. .

"Yeah, same old same old," Nick told her as he shed his jacket. He was very mindful of the bottle in the pocket, but decided not to tell Maura about it in case it didn't work. Or in case it did. As she was fond of reminding him, he loved surprises as long as he wasn't the recipient.

"You're looking very dark tonight," he observed. Maura descended the stairs carrying her shoes, having chosen mostly black to wear. Black jeans, black t shirt with a deep v-neck and push-up sleeves. Her only concession to color was an assortment of malachite and emerald jewelry. The malachite was hers, the emeralds were gifts from Nick, whose penchant for occasional excess she was struggling to accept as normal. "I've built up quite a little nest egg in 800 years, let me enjoy it okay?" he'd told her when she'd tried to refuse the mediaeval white-gold and emerald ring she now wore regularly. That particular ring he'd had for a few centuries, in any case.

Maura shrugged. "Like it or not, the more I Goth it up the more seriously they take me. Go figure. I'd hoped my powerful air of absolute authority would do it."

"Whatever it takes." Nick flopped on the sofa, filled wine glass in hand. "Vachon picking you up?"

"Yeah. He loves showing off that retro Mustang of his."

"Well I'll collect you after work. I've got too much paperwork to do with Schanke tonight, so by then I'll be ready for something a little looser."

A horn honked outside.

"I_hate_ when he does that, I feel like such a floozy," Maura complained, eliciting a bark of laughter from Nick.

"If the flooz fits..."

She approached as if to slap him but patted the top of his head instead. "Have a nice dull evening supercop," Maura instructed as she grabbed her own leather jacket and bag. Things had been a little wild at work for him lately, lots of cases though most quickly settled. Criminals getting busy _and_ stupid was better than getting busy and smarter, he'd told her. Gotta find an upside somewhere. A second honk, rife with impatience, drifted up from the street and grimacing with distaste Maura bounded out the door, leaving Nick to consider his now half-empty wine glass. He rose and went to where his jacket hung by the door, fished the vial out of the pocket. "Here goes nothing," he said to nobody and carefully tipped a tiny drop, then another, into his glass before topping it off from the bottle on the coffee table. "Here's mud in yer eye," he mugged to the mirror, and tried not to chug.

Maura was surprised when Nick abruptly took the cash from her and handed it off to Janette, who stood nearby discussing the liquor order with Vachon. It was just after last call, not too busy for a Wednesday night, but the band hadn't finished up yet.

"Dance, lady?" he asked her in his best Noir voice.

"Uh, sure," she cast a look at Janette who smiled and nodded. Whatever, her expression said. The song was one of the dark, sultry ones that usually ended the evening. "Gotta pair 'em off for the night," Derek was fond of saying. Nick had his arm around her waist as they got to the dance floor, then tightened it to pull her against him.

"Guess you _are_ ready for something looser, aren't you?" Something was different about him. When he took one of her hands in his and held it to his face, his eyes never leaving hers, she stopped dead.

"Notice anything different?" he asked innocently, leading strongly to keep her moving with him. Her brow was knit in consternation.

"Bring a thermos to the office, did you? Or have you been snacking?" The possibility clearly disturbed her. He whirled them rapidly and pressed his (warm... warm?) mouth to her ear. "Natalie's magic potion. A little dab'll do ya."

She was getting dizzy and dragged on Nick to slow them down. "What _are_ you raving about?" He still had his (_so _warm) face pressed into her cheek.

"I told you she was working on something to boost my temperature, right? Well tonight was the maiden voyage, so to speak." He told her what Natalie had told him. She pulled away a little, staring.

"So you're telling me a shot of hot sauce is gonna keep you from going all corpse-like between feedings?"

He put on a hurt expression. "I thought 'corpse-like' was part of my charm..." She made a face. "Oh all right, yeah we're hoping to keep me regulated. Just think, no more being buried in advice and herbal remedies, no more offers of hand-knit sweaters,"

"No more frostbite at 3am," Maura added, prompting Nick to pull a face of his own. But just for a second, because he hugged her tight and buried his face in her neck with a grumbling sound. "So, whaddaya think?"

"Nice. How long does it last?"

"I have no idea. Looks like you're gonna be a guinea pig tonight."

The song ended, and the band was down for the night. "Oh, _swell_," Maura muttered as they returned to the bar. "I always wanted to be the subject of an uncontrolled experiment."

"_Object_," Nick corrected.

"I'm outta here, okay?" Maura asked Vachon and Janette. "You guys have it all under control, right?"

Janette offered her driest smile. "We'll struggle through, cherie. You and Nicolas go home and settle in for the day." She said this with the air of an indulgent mother allowing the teenagers to neck in the front room.

Maura reached for Nick's hand on the drive home. Unbelievably he was still warm, but it felt normal, constant, not the up-and-down feverishness that was present after a rich feed. Just... regular. He gave her fingers a squeeze, keeping his eyes on the road but smiling a little.

"But how do you feel?" she wanted to know.

He looked thoughtful for a moment or two as he parked out back of the loft. "I feel just the same as always. No effects at all."

"Well that's a good thing, huh? I mean compared to all the other shit that Natalie has given you that made you sick or crazy or just plain weird."

She didn't see Nick looking askance at her. "Well anytime it gets to be too much for you..."

"Oh stop it, will you?" She took his jacket with her own and hung them up, returning to stand close to him in the kitchen. "Mmm, yeah, you do feel kind of normal, don't you? I mean when you drink up, Shriners, it's furnace time and then it drops like a rock. This is making you, I guess, kind of _level_."

He poured a glass and tipped a drop into it. "I'll just leave the vial here, to remind me. Nat says if it works out all right she can make a big batch." He turned to face Maura, raising his glass, "Here's to a functioning thermostat," but before he could drink she stood on tiptoe to press her cheek against his.

"Mmm, just right."

"Thanks, Goldilocks."

She laughed wearily as she trudged up the stairs and got changed for bed. She was beat tonight. Slow nights always seemed to take more out of her. For some reason there could be more trouble when there were less people, go figure. She was sound asleep when Nick came up hours later, not having drunk anything for some time. A bedtime feed was more habit than necessity, a concession to Maura so he didn't chill her out too soon. He slid in beside her and reached his arm around her waist, waiting for a response. He knew if he were too cold she'd shrink away without waking. Now, though, she murmured, "mmm, bats," and snuggled closer. Nick smiled to himself. He'd been telling the truth when he told Natalie he wasn't just doing this for Maura. It wasn't complicated or grand, just one less thing he had to explain to the world that now had one more small thing in common with him. He didn't feel more _mortal_, just less alien. Careful to hold Maura in a fashion she could escape (trapped and warm was still trapped, after all), he fell into his usual slumber. For the first time in years he dreamt of sunshine, and this time it didn't hurt.

Maura woke a few hours after sunrise, in her usual curled-up posture facing away from Nick. No matter where she started out when they went to bed she always ended up the same way. But she was aware of an unfamiliar (warm) pressure against her back, and realized Nick was lying close-by against her. Rather, she hadn't moved away in the night. And warm. He was warm. It took a minute to remember, but she realized Natalie's "magic potion" must still be working. She turned to have a look at Nick, in all other ways his customary self in sleep, loose-limbed in appearance but utterly inert and unmovable. She touched the arm that lay exposed on his stomach. Warm. She had to admit it was a little creepy. He looked dead as could be, gone pale as snow from the many hours since his last feeding. Under her fingers there was none of the subtle thrum of restoring energy evident in a sleeping mortal. But he was warm, no more or less than he had been last night. She touched his face and hair, knowing he wouldn't stir. The same curiously lifeless warmth, like a hot water bottle or a rock left in the sun. Frowning a little, she withdrew. Nick was right, of course, this would leave him with one less set of uncomfortable questions and intrusions to deal with. And it removed her source of discomfort as they slept. At one time they'd considered his sleeping permanently in the living room, but both disliked the separation. So he'd stayed put, dealing with the discomfort as a necessity of being close. This "magic potion" made that easier. But what was she close _to? _ A corpse with central heating. The only time she ever admitted to herself he was not alive was at times like this, when he was "asleep" in a way that mortals never slept. He was, now, well and truly dead. But warm. And it seemed that what was appealing, even inviting, when Nick was awake was undeniably unsettling when he was not.

Stop it, she told herself, how fucking selfish can you be. You know he didn't do this just for you. Still Maura figured it might not have occurred to him to ask Natalie for assistance if she weren't there to make things more noticeable. Careful what you wish for. Still tired, she settled down again by his side, not quite touching. She knew if she were too far away he'd surely notice when he woke up. Suddenly she wished there were some way that mortals could harmonize better with vampire reality, instead of always vice versa. She loved him, in any case, so she knew she'd adapt. Wrapping hesitant fingers around his arm she went back to sleep, and when he woke her with a kiss and an affectionate smile she'd completely forgotten her unease.

Fall was turning to winter and by the end of November Toronto was gearing up for the holidays. Maura had never connected much with Christmas. Not really because of the religious aspect, which had never been overwhelming, but because of the way she lived her life so far there had been little room for festivity. Holiday gatherings were hunting grounds for her companions, nemeses and various protectors.

For Nick, Christmas and New Year's celebrations had always been another occasion for retreat, lame explanations and increased efforts by his mortal friends and colleagues to include him in their socializing. Everyone knew he belonged to no particular religion, but something in the holiday season compelled everyone to redouble their efforts to "rescue" Nick from his self-imposed solitude. And he did feel a little sad, or was it weariness, on the odd Christmas or New Year's eve spent alone or sipping wine-laced blood at midnight with Janette at Raven. When you've seen more than 800 years turn, celebration becomes redundant and a bit empty.

After ten months together, Nick and Maura had settled into a mostly calm existence broken only by occasional work-related drama. Since his first appearance LaCroix had inexplicably and blessedly been absent. Their lives had blended so seamlessly that all questions of definition had evaporated. Friends, siblings, lovers in a sense that transcended sex. The latter was something Nick still shied from while Maura learned not to give its absence too much weight. Their physical connection was absolute, in any case. Those who saw them together assumed a smouldering passion when they were alone, though the nights of intense connection they did share would have beggared their friends' imaginations. One such night as Nick and Maura lay tangled, sated and drugged with pleasure, Schanke had called with some vital information on a case. "Hope I'm not interrupting anything, partner," he'd apologized slyly. "You have no idea," Nick drawled in response, balancing the phone on one arm as he cradled the languorous Maura against him with the other.

This year there was no escaping for either of them. Maura was actually looking forward to some holiday socializing, having been deprived of such things all her life. And she'd come to like Nick's friends and colleagues, both from work and the ones she'd met through Janette and the club. Nick accepted the inevitability of the usual invitations, softening his resistance as Maura's growing interest became evident in spite of her efforts to disguise it. When she suggested that Nick persuade Captain Stonetree to hold the department Christmas party at Raven, Nick's response was stunned surprise.

"Are you out of your mind? Can you imagine Janette's version of a Christmas party? I can just see her decorations... 3-d tableaux of lions devouring early Christians, re-creations of Roman crucifixions," he warned her.

"Oh come on, I think she could tinsel it up a little if the price was right. And I bet the precinct would get into a little Goth -holiday motif. Just check it out with the others first. They're _so_ dying of curiosity about the place to begin with, and everybody has the same old parties, why not something a little, uh, _creative_."

Nick was shaking his head. "You're a lunatic. Okay, I'll see what they say, but my guess is you'll be burned at the stake." He only agreed to mention it because he was certain everyone would share his reaction. Wrong.

"Hmm," Schanke had mused. "A little _dark_ Christmas, huh? New and mysterious things to do under the mistletoe... I like it. Everybody's sick of the same old egg nog and top-forty band stuff every year anyway."

And Maura was right about Janette as well, who was delighted at the prospect of hosting holiday entertainments for Toronto's finest. She conceded to the mortal season by augmenting the customary white strobes with dozens of yards of twinkling red lights, draped silver angel hair and tinsel on every fixture. There was even mistletoe hung in strategic locations, swagged from green silk ribbons. It would have been considered subdued for any mortal gathering, but sufficiently festive to impress even Nick.

"Why Janette, you've gotten the Christmas spirit."

Janette shuddered. "I was hoping to avoid that. But there's no harm in sparkling up the place a bit for the paying guests." This triggered a "so there" look from Maura to Nick. It always surprised her when he seemed to miss the mark where Janette was concerned. Surely by now he knew she could be counted upon to get into any "spirit" the private customers required, even enjoying it once things were underway. Janette prided herself on her ability to satisfy any customer.

The precinct turned out in force for the party, and Maura correctly observed that they were consumed with curiosity about the club. Janette was wise to leave its typical character evident, dressing it up only enough to amuse the party goers with the contrast.

Maura decided to go full-vamp for the party, and went to Janette for help in designing an appropriate outfit. The dress was an iridescent black/emerald silk velvet, shadowing from one color to the other depending on the flow of the incredibly soft fabric. It was cut on the bias, falling from a tight, off the shoulder bodice to a very full bias-cut skirt. Slashes in the overdress revealed a scarlet silk underdress, and the fitted sleeves of the same material peeked through slits in the green velvet oversleeves that tapered to Maura's wrists. The scarlet inner sleeves ended in black lace mitts that reached the base of her fingernails. Quick "escape" from them was enabled by a lengthwise slit along the inner wrist, held closed by hooks covered by tiny red silk roses. The waist of the gown was wound round with a twisted rope of green, scarlet, and black silk tipped with silver, emerald-set finials ending in silver bells that tinkled musically whenever Maura moved. The final touch was a pair of butter-soft doeskin boots, dyed green to match her dress, with heels high enough to make Maura feel tall for the first time in her life. Janette's shoemaker was instructed that they were to be made for comfort as well as style, so the platform under the ball of the foot was raised enough to keep her foot from being canted at too sharp an angle. Though they were wide and roomy inside, they gave the impression of a small foot. Maura couldn't figure it out; Janette finally chided, "Cherie, they are perfect, don't ask questions." Maura compromised with Janette over her insistence that Maura wear her hair up. Janette _always_ wanted her hair tied up out of the way as if the she found the notion of a covered neck offensive. Instead Maura allowed Janette to fasten it back out of her face with small silver and emerald clips, letting it flow back loose from the crown of her head.

"Oh cherie," Janette purred as Maura took a turn at the final fitting, "if Nicolas doesn't pay proper attention to you, I might just dance with you myself."

At last Maura was able to do justice to the gifts of emerald jewelry she'd rather reluctantly accepted from Nick for her birthday last July. A beautifully bejewelled platinum lavalier lay perfectly arranged in her decolletage, the one-carat briolette sparkling between the tops of her breasts. Matching platinum bracelets, set with large faceted oval emeralds, would encircle her right and left wrists."What about my watch," she'd protested at first, but Janette waved her off impatiently. "Who on earth will care what time it is?"

This time both she and Nick dressed at home and would arrive together. He'd chosen his favorite black leather blazer, blood-red silk shirt, and a black tab tie to wear over black jeans and a silver-chased black leather belt. He looked good enough to eat in one bite, Maura had decided, but why start something they couldn't finish in time to go to the party? She left him downstairs as she went up to change. It never took her long to get ready for anything. She was good to go in ten minutes, but was having trouble with her hair and the clasp on the necklace.

"Nick!" she called downstairs, "can you come up and give me a hand with something?"

When he appeared in the room (he always just "appeared" when they were at home) he levitated there in the doorway, mouth half-open in a wondering smile. "Oh, my." His smile widened. "Some day I'll figure out how you morph from working class to royalty with the addition of a few yards of velvet," he muttered, shaking his head as he found his feet again.

"A_few_ yards, huh, and don't forget the silk," she whirled to open the various slits and vents in the skirt and sleeves to allow the red to flash through.

"Oh, I'd never." When he stood toe-to-toe with her she saw he only had an inch or two on her because of her shoes. "My how you've grown," he observed. "Now how can I help?"

"My hair," she complained, "Janette gave me these beautiful barrettes but I just can't make it come out right. It seemed so simple when she did it, just twisted back on each side and the rest hanging loose."

Nick examined the barrettes and studied Maura's hair for a moment. "Turn around," when she was facing away from him he tipped her head back, then drew a ribbon of hair back from each temple, twisted it, and fastened it with a barrette, all with the gentlest of fingers. "Okay, look at me." She did, and he arranged the rest of her hair over her shoulders and fluffed her bangs. "There, just right." She was delighted when she looked in the mirror. "Detective, you have missed your calling!"

"Well nice to know I might have something to fall back on in my 'old age'," he laughed. "Are we ready now?"

"One more thing," Maura told him as she picked up the emerald necklace by its delicate chain. "I can't manage the clasp and keep my hair out of the way at the same time." She turned away again and Nick draped the lavaliere in front, fastening the clasp after Maura lifted her hair out of the way. Then he smoothed the chain and finished by making her shiver with a kiss to the nape of her neck. "There you are. I don't even know why the other women would bother to come tonight if they could see you now." She turned with a smirk.

"Smooth talker." Reaching into her closet for the black velvet cloak Janette had given to her as a gift after the awards dinner, she slung it carelessly over her arm. "Let's roll, detective." But he was standing still as stone again, just watching her.

"_What_?"

"Nothing. I was just thinking this is the first Christmas I've seen in several hundred years that I might really enjoy."

She shifted a little self-consciously. "Shit, don't go all deep and gooey on me, okay? Sentimental vampires make me nervous. They're so unpredictable."

"You don't fool me. You _love_ 'deep and gooey'," he teased, giving her a squeeze as she tried to push past him. He held her still by her belt of silken rope – "This could come in handy" – pulled sprig of mistletoe from his pocket and held it aloft. "Oh, look. A pagan love symbol." His smile disappeared as he kissed her softly. "Merry Christmas, my pagan love."

"I'm not a pagan. I'm a pan-spiritualist."

"You're a bullshit artist, is what you are." He released her but took her hand as they went downstairs. "C'mon, let's party."


	2. Chapter 2

Though they weren't particularly late, Nick and Maura were among the last to arrive. At first Maura cast quick looks around the room to see who was where, but her eyes were immediately drawn to the beautifully lit, perfectly decorated tree that stood near one corner of the dance floor. It had to be eight feet tall, with a Della Robbia Father Christmas on top. It twinkled with crystal and gold, silver and jewels, decorations that looked to her as if they'd been saved from some Renaissance masque. She ran to Janette and hugged her, to the latter's awkward surprise. "Oh Janette, it's _wonderful!_" Maura had mentioned rather wistfully once or twice how she'd never really had the chance to enjoy much festivity about Christmas, that she'd never really considered it a religious holiday but maybe a chance to be forget a grim existence for a day or two. She'd always loved the bright trees in the homes of others and knowing she'd have none of her own always made her a bit sad and envious.

Janette collected herself with her usual dignified-tolerant smile, and pointed over Maura's shoulder at Nick. "Merci beaucoup, cherie, but this 'wonderful' is Nicolas' doing."

"I helped decorate it," Vachon added with very un-vampire like pride. At once Maura turned to find Nick standing some distance away talking with Schanke and Myra. She rushed to his side and took his arm.

"Is it true," she interrupted their conversation, "you really did all that? Where did you _get_ all that posh stuff?"

Nick shrugged, "Just some knickknacks I've collected in my travels..." But his smile betrayed a bit of uncertainty. "It was my first attempt in a long time, really, I've had to get some coaching."

Myra touched Maura's hand. "When Don told me Nick was driving him crazy for decorating advice, I called him at work and told him just make it look like it's the only gift you'll ever give her, and you can't go wrong."

Maura turned and examined the tree again, wondering if she could ever tear herself away. It was perfect, it was exactly what would have filled that vague aching spot inside every Christmas of her life. She felt her eyes start to water and tried to blink it away before turning back to Nick and the Schankes. Nick leaned close, missing nothing as always, and whispered "You're not gonna go all deep and gooey on me, are you?" She couldn't answer, regarding him with a damp and wide-eyed stare. "Joyeux Noël, ma doucette," he told her with that loving smile that always touched her soul.

"I _so_ love you to bits, Nicolas de Brabant," and she kissed him thoroughly, right in front of everyone. When she finally released him Nick told Myra appreciatively, "When you're right, you're right."

"So, who's this de Brabant guy?" Schanke asked. "Do a little 'role playing' in your private time?"

Maura slapped his arm. "You're a pig, Schanke. Just an old family name left behind with the centuries."

Vamp took the stage, and Derek announced he wanted to "set the tone for a dark, romantic party". The band slid into an original instrumental, bass-heavy, slow, and smooth. To avoid more questions from Schanke (and, frankly, because he loved touching her silk velvet dress), Nick scooped Maura around the waist, whirled them around and asked her, "Dance, lady?" She felt the same rush she always did when he turned on his noir charm. "I thought you'd never ask."

"But you just got here," Schanke tried to correct her, and his wife nudged him hard in the ribs. "Sometimes, Donnie, I swear you are denser than dense."

On the way to the dance floor Maura pulled Nick to a stop. "Wait a minute. I got a surprise for you."

"This could be a limited offer, don't pass it up," he warned, clearly not meaning a word of it.

"No, really, it'll only take a minute. Or two." She motioned to Derek, who she knew had planned the instrumental as an intro to let Maura know they were ready for the song she had written with him. She'd always had a gift for words, and together with Derek's gift for music they had crafted a song for her to perform as a Christmas present to Nick. Maura hoped it managed to capture the essence of her life since meeting Nick. When they'd finished it and done a pre-arrangement run through with just Maura singing and Derek accompanying on piano, he'd told her "Shit, Luna, I'd take a stake if the last thing I could hear was some woman singing that to me."

Derek gave her a hand up to the stage as Nick looked on, bemused. Schanke and Myra drifted up to join him, the ever-inquisitive partner asking "What's up, Knight? She gonna sing Deck the Halls or something?" Nick just shrugged.

"Dunno, she said it was a surprise for me." Then Derek cued the lights to focus on Maura, and she never took her eyes from Nick until the last note faded. She watched anxiously for his response; she knew her talent for words was far superior to her voice but Derek had insisted she sing it herself. "Come on, Luna, I can't sing it to him! I mean, I'm a vampire and all, but I'm no weirdo!"

The expression on Nick's face was curious, equal parts of surprise, delight, and an affectionate gratitude she was sure he'd seen in her before but, neither one could define. The applause was scattered and polite; many of the partiers paid little attention. Nick's face was all Maura saw as she said with a somewhat hesitant smile, "Joyeux Noël, chauve-sourix." He lit up. "Bats," he said under his breath, and she mouthed the same to him, silently.

"I'd say your tree's been trumped," an impressed Schanke announced, punctuating with a manly punch to Nick's shoulder.

"Yeah, I'd say so..." Nick responded a little vaguely, still staring at center stage where Derek had just gotten a thank-you hug from Maura and was helping her down to the dance floor again. She was immediately swept into Nick's embrace, so strong it lifted her right off the floor.

"I've never been given such a present," he whispered in her ear. She felt a bit awkward after their earlier heated kiss.

"And you don't have to dust it," she laughed, adding, "put me down, will you, everybody's staring." He did as she asked.

"And so they should." He ran a hand fondly through her hair, and leaned close to kiss her cheek. "Merci beaucoup, doucette."

"Okay, okay, I've had about enough of this secret code stuff," Schanke interjected. "You should at least be polite enough to keep it at home."

Still laughing, Maura took Schanke's arm. "It's just French, honest. 'Chauve-sourix' means 'bats'."

"Another old family name?" he inquired of his partner with raised eyebrows.

"Just an inside joke," he was assured.

Across the room, Natalie had taken in the whole scene and was fighting her own emotions.

Now Maura took Nick by the hand and said, "Okay, slick, now we dance."

"'Slick'?" Nick echoed. "I'm not sure I like that."

"Tough," she hauled him out on the floor.

"Don't you love it when they're masterful?" Schanke called to him as Myra dragged _him_ out to dance as well. The band was playing a bluesy number, and Maura melted into Nick as he wove them between the other dancers.

"I wasn't sure you'd like it," she confessed in his ear, "I know how you hate being the center of attention."

He turned his head to look at her in amazement. "How could I hate anything you gave me?"

"Except a hard time," she snickered and held tight as he whirled and dipped her forward against him, in a "take that" move. When he righted them again, Maura settled her head on his shoulder, forehead against his neck.

"I so love you to bits," she murmured, "I just wanted everyone else to know, too. I hoped you wouldn't mind."

"I can handle it," and he hugged her closer.

A hand lightly tapped Maura's shoulder as they approached a corner of the dance floor near the bar. "I'd like to cut in, but I forgot my crowbar." Natalie.

Shit. Maura was very comfortable where she was, wrapped up with Nick and letting him move them to the music. The fact that she could "wrap up" with him anytime didn't cheer her. But it was Christmas, and Natalie and Nick were best friends even if Natalie would sell her soul (literally) to have more. Being honest with herself, Maura knew Natalie would never try to persuade Nick away so long as she knew he was happy. But still. Shit. Maura wasn't proud of it, but knew she wasn't above being selfish even at Christmas. She arranged what she hoped was a convincing smile on her face and unwound herself from Nick to face Natalie.

"Go ahead, I shouldn't hog him all night like this anyway. I rag on him to socialize, and look what happens." Nick cast a meaningful look to her, but she brightened her smile. "I haven't gossiped with Janette yet, and there are _so_ many people here to observe and discuss. Catch up with me later."

She figured she looked a little grumpy when she joined Janette, who was sipping her usual rare vintage of blood wine at her usual table.

"How very gracious you are, cherie, in the holiday spirit?"

"Pfeh." Maura reached for the bottle without thinking, but Janette stopped her hand.

"Oh my, are we feeling a bit"

"Jealous? Hell no, we both know I have nothing to worry about."

Janette considered this as she watched Nick and Natalie dancing, their conversation more intimate than their posture. "Perhaps... annoyed, then."

Maura waved one of the special events waiters, who had quite literally flown in from France, to the table. "Un bouteille de Cristal, s'il vous plait." The attractive young vampire – the only kind Janette would employ for such an event – seemed to evaporate from in front of her and reappeared momentarily with the bottle. He uncorked it with a flourish and poured a flute for Maura, making it hover for a moment in midair before placing it in her hand rather than on the table.

"Merci beaucoup, c'est tout," Maura told him, and he was gone again. Turning to Janette she observed "You always hire for talent for these parties, don't you?"

"Yes, well," Janette looked rather displeased, "he had better learn to curb his little parlor tricks or he will have the Enforcers down on our heads."

"Not to mention a roomful of new believers." She slugged down the full flute, then poured herself another. Janette smirked in distaste.

"_Please_, cherie, that is _Cristal_, not that dreadful Jacques Daniels you favor." Janette considered bourbon déclassé.

"Sorry." She sipped the next glass a bit more genteelly.

"You have a talent for music, cherie."

"Thanks Janette, but Derek wrote it, not me."

"The words came from you, did they not? And what is a love song without words?"

Maura smiled to herself. "Yeah, I always did have the gift. Or so I've been told."

Janette's smile grew companionable as she leaned over to confide, "Well you certainly talked your way into Raven, and into Nicolas' heart."

"Don't tell _him_ that. He doesn't think he has one."

Janette dismissed the comment with an elegant wave. "I think we both know the truth of that." She clinked her wine glass against Maura's flute. "Joyeux Noël, cherie. And I think that this will be a good New Year."

Maura sat back in mock surprise. "Why Janette! Indulging in a Christian holiday tradition?" She looked around rapidly, as if for spies, before adding sotto voce, "What would the Enforcers say?"

Janette snorted, which _really_ shocked Maura. "What is it you're fond of saying, the Enforcers 'peuvent embrasser ma derrière."

Maura burst out laughing, and found herself unable to stop. Janette could drop the grand vampire dame persona completely at the most unexpected moments. "Oh Janette," she gasped, hand on her employer's arm, "it's true, everything _does_ sound better in French!" The humor struck Janette as well, and she joined in Maura's laughter.

Natalie kissed Nick and wished him a Merry Christmas, a gesture and sentiment he returned.

"First time in a century I've really had one," he admitted. Though he was looking her in the eye, she knew where his mind was.

"That was some song."

Nick's smile struck Natalie as almost private. "Yeah, it was, wasn't it."

"Nick, you seem happy." It had the feel of a concession to something Natalie hadn't wanted to admit to herself, but she saw something in Nick tonight that had never before been apparent.

"Happy? I'm not sure I know what that is, Nat." They were dancing slowly among couples clinging closely together; Natalie was as aware of the "casual" space between them as Nick was aware of its necessity.

"Content, then. At peace, maybe. Nick, really, if that's what this change in your life has brought you, you need to know it makes me happy to see it."

"Peace," he mused, "not sure I know that either, but I'm willing to learn." They'd drifted to a stop in a shadowed corner.

"I wish I could have," Natalie began, having promised herself she wouldn't, but a couple of drinks and the emotion of the holiday overcame her discretion.

"Don't," he chided gently, and regarded her with an understanding expression that was almost painful for her to see because she felt it was so close to pity. "Yours is my most precious friendship, I couldn't live without it, or you, or us. You know I care about you."

Natalie's gaze slid to the corner where Maura's continuing laughter triggered a palpable reaction in Nick, as always. "You just care for her more." Her voice was sad, not bitter. Nick turned her to face him with two fingers against her chin.

"No, not more. Differently. We're two of a kind, Maura and me, neither fish nor fowl. We understood one another almost from the moment we met, and that fills a space in me I never really knew existed until she took its place. That doesn't change anything between you and me."

"You love her very much, don't you?" More acknowledgment than inquiry.

That smile again. "I think you knew that even before I did."

"I only want you to be who you should be, who you want to be," for some reason Natalie felt the need to explain.

"She believes I already am."

"But do _you_? That's what's important. You've always told me you wanted something more than what you had, even if you learned to let the past be past, you wanted something more _human_. So you could share the lives and feelings of the people you care about, who care about you."

They'd stopped dancing and were standing separately now. Nick touched Natalie's shoulder lightly.

"I think I'm learning that there might be a middle ground for me. Maybe I _can _exist in two worlds, with everyone I care about, without judging anyone. And without judging myself." He seemed to be choosing his words carefully as he went, to express something that had only just occurred to him.

"She's convinced you of all that."

"No, not like that. But I think I've been able to convince _myself _for the first time, since knowing her. Oh Nat," he gestured for emphasis, "you've helped me master the darkest parts of myself, you and Maura still help me realize it doesn't always _have _to be dark even at night. Maybe the reason you haven't 'cured' me is that there's nothing to cure. Maybe the protein drinks and garlic pills and sun lamps are just a denial of what I can't change, and shouldn't. Maybe I'm meant to cope with who I am the best I can, the way anyone else does. Maybe _that's_ how I'm meant to be 'mortal'."

Natalie knew there was no use pursuing it. He was in love with Maura and was making an existence for himself that was more like a real life than perhaps he'd ever known. He didn't have to tell her. He also didn't have to tell her that for all of his decisive words, enough doubt remained to hold him back, as his doubts about being mortal held him back from giving up his bottles. But what he'd said about loving Maura was true; she had known it before he did. She knew him that well. She took a resolute breath, and looked him in the eye. "Maybe you're right. But even if you aren't I'm glad things are working out for you. I always thought you deserved to have someone at home who loves you that much." Even if it can't be me, she added silently. He gave her a warm hug and kiss.

"Merry Christmas, Nat. It wouldn't be right without you." Releasing her, his eyes followed Maura's renewed laughter. "C'mon, let's see what all the hysterics are about." When she hung back on his hand for half a second, his gently pained look back at her said "Don't." So she didn't. Instead she trailed Nick as he strolled to the corner where Maura and Janette were recovering their decorum. They arrived at the table just in time to hear Maura intone with a raised glass, "Á les Enforceurs." Nick fell back a step in shock.

"_What?_"

Janette was in a fine mood, and waved Nick away. "Relax, Nicolas, we are being festive. And being festive means dismissing anything that might dull our good cheer." Well into her fourth glass of champagne, Maura nodded enthusiastically, her hair flying around her head, wisps coming loose from their silver barrettes.

"Yeah, Nick, chill, will ya?" It was a phrase often used by the younger Raven employees. "This is a _party_."

Janette announced with mock disapproval, "Your _amour vrai _has been communing with the Cristal, Nicolas. I fear she will be unfit to drive."

"As if he'd let anyone drive that machine cold sober," Natalie was unable to control herself.

"Come on, let's dance off some of that expensive buzz," Nick invited. Maura took his outstretched hand and swept to his side, a bit unsteadily.

"Don't worry," he assured her, "I'll lead." She answered with a "pffflllt" in his ear which he tried to brush away as he led her out to join the other dancers.


	3. Chapter 3

"I believe our Maura has gone a bit silly with champagne," observed Janette.

"I'd say so," agreed Natalie. She couldn't help but recognize how perfectly they seemed to fit one another.

Maura melted into Nick as he pulled an arm tight around her waist. The music was smooth and bluesy and he moved them together as if they were joined as one.

"Mmm, Bats," she purred against his cheek, "if you play your cards right I might just come home with you tonight." He laughed softly. "And if you play your cards right, I might just _let _you."

"Smooth talker," and she kissed his neck for emphasis then settled on his shoulder again. His fingers moved against the velvet of her dress as he enjoyed her softness as well as the fabric.

"Have I told you lately that I love you?" he whispered.

"Sounds like a song I heard once... but yeah you have."

"Well how about I tell you again," and she lifted her head up to look him in the eye, their noses almost touching.

"I love you," he told her with a smile, pursing his lips on the last word to kiss her.

"You do have great taste," she pronounced, adding slyly, "But lemme taste you again, just to be sure," and she fastened onto his mouth, wrapping her arms around his neck and tangling fingers in his hair. She so loved him warm, as he was all the time now.

After enjoying her impulse for a moment or two, Nick gently pried his face away. "Is this a snack or a meal?"

"Up to you, Nicolas." She tipped her head ever so slightly to the side, pressed still closer, and was rewarded by the faintest pulse of gold deep in his eyes.

"You are a dangerous drunk," he mumbled. He stepped back and led her to a group of coworkers to socialize. Shop talk was inevitable, and with nothing to amuse her Maura wandered off to the bar. Nick tried to keep one eye on her as he chatted with fellow detectives. Finally Schanke leaned over and warned, "Better check on your party girl, partner, before you have to squeegee her off the floor."

She'd wheedled another glass of champagne out of Miklos, who was keeping a close eye on her and hadn't permitted her to leave for parts unknown. Lucky for him, Nick thought, that Miklos had the sort of commanding demeanor that usually guaranteed compliance from Maura without her realizing it.

"Ooooh, bay-beeee," she sang as she spun back and forth on the bar stool. Nick held onto her belt to keep her anchored. She was progressing from silly to genuinely swacked, but behaving herself nicely.

"Oh baby yourself. How much of that bubbly have you had?" She seldom drank so it didn't take much, and he'd counted five glassed so far.

"I dunno. Don't worry, it's a present from Janette."

"Remind me to thank her," he muttered as she pulled him closer, draping velvet arms around his neck.

"Don't be grumpy, it's Christmas," she pouted, then brightened. "Thank you for my tree. Will it fit in the corner by the stereo?" she mused vaguely, staring over his shoulder.

"Um, I'm afraid not," it hadn't occurred to him she might want to bring it home. Then again, it hadn't occurred to him she'd drain Janette's stock of Cristal, either. "How about we just leave it here and Janette and all of you can take care of it. You'll see it almost every night at work."

"I don't think she'll wanna keep it, she's not really into desca, decra," she struggled with the word, finally settling for "that kinda stuff."

Nick grinned at her drunken dignity. "Decorations?"

"Yeah them."

"Well I'll have a word with her. She'll be okay with it, I promise." He hoped. Maura was scowling.

"Oh sure, do do that voodoo that you do so well," and they were both amazed that she managed it. "No woman can resist your smooth talk, huh, living or dead."

"Sssh!" Nick glanced around to make sure no mortals had heard. "And don't be grumpy. It's Christmas." He defused her scowl with a kiss. This was a whole new facet to the woman he thought he'd come to know inside and out. Silly and girly and totally unlike the usual hard-edged smartassed semi-neurotic broad who'd been sharing his life. He wasn't sure he'd like her this way all the time, but for now it was kind of fun. "Maybe someone brought a camera, we can take a picture of it and hang it up at home."

Maura's silly smile had returned and she shook her head. "Uh-uh, that's okay. I'll keep it here," and she tapped the center of her chest, making the emerald briolette dance. "Right next to you."

"_Now _who's smooth-talking?"

"Mmm... me." He expected a giggle to follow, but instead she laughed low and rich, and he faltered at the sound of it. She pulled him closer, "You love when I do that, huh. I knew it all along, Detective Cool. Detective Cool and logic, and one laugh turns you into a real horndog." Now she did giggle. "Like that'll be the day." He frowned a little at that.

"I'm sorry, that was just mean," she touched his face, "so soft, you're so soft like velvet," and his smile returned. "I love you so much, Just Nick, it scares me sometimes. I never meant to, not really. I just meant to be friends."

"We are." He regarded her for a minute or two with amused affection. "I love you too, doucette. But it doesn't scare me a bit." She was beginning to look a little bleary. "Come on, Champagne Charlie, let's go home." At that moment Janette appeared from nowhere, holding Maura's wrap and purse.

"Do you suppose she has saved up every Christmas of her life for this night?" she asked in amusement.

"I'd say so."

"I'm getting too sleepy," Maura confessed, "I need some fresh air to wake up."

"And quite a lot of coffee, I think," Janette offered with a raised eyebrow. Nick's face lit with an inspired smile. "Okay, we'll get you all the fresh air you can stand." He fished his car keys out of his pocket and tossed them on the bar. "Have one of the guys drive the Caddy home," he whispered to the confused Janette, then helped Maura on with her wrap and motioned to a waiter to bring him his overcoat. When it arrived he wrapped his woolen scarf around Maura's neck and put his fur-lined leather gloves on her. He never really needed them anyway.

"Ooh, cross-dressing," Maura drawled, "kinky."

"Cold out," he explained and leaned over to kiss Janette. "Thanks for the party. I promised Maura you'd agree to keep the tree here for as long as it lasts." Janette's protest was muffled by another kiss. "I knew you'd say yes. See you soon," and he brought Maura to her feet and guided her through their various goodnights.

"'night Schankes," Maura bubbled to Nick's partner and his wife. "You knew all along this was a good idea, didn't you?"

"When you're right, you're right," Schanke confirmed. "Merry Christmas, guys." Myra gave Nick and Maura both a kiss and hug, but the stunner was Maura grabbing Schanke by a lapel and smooching his cheek loudly. "You're a good guy, Schank. Take it from one who knows from assholes." Nick roared with laughter.

"Uh thanks, I guess," Schanke was, as usual, a little uncertain how he should reply.

"Don't worry, Schank, just the Cristal version of a compliment," Nick assured him with a wink as he steered Maura out the side door.

"What'd I say?" Nick tightened his grip on her as he laughed again.

"Nothing, Sweet, we're all just a little crazy tonight." He led her to a darkened corner of the employees' parking lot.

"Where are we going? We parked on the street." The cold air had sharpened her up a little. He looked around furtively to check if anyone could see. Nobody.

"Uh, what exactly are you gonna do?" Maura asked a little uneasily.

"How's your stomach?"

"My _what_?"

"I mean, you had a lot to drink. How are you feeling?"

"You brought me out back to _puke_?"

He caught her face between his hands. "_Focus_, Maura." They had to move fast before anyone else came by.

"Fine, I'm fine. Just a little, you know," she swayed against his restraining arms, "tanked?" She made a "wheee" noise as she leaned her head back. Nick brought her upright and pulled her arms around his neck.

"You wanna make out or something?" She looked around and wrinkled her nose in distaste, "Kinda gross out here."

"Shut up," he told her abruptly. "Will you just shut _up_." That worked. She stared at him, a pout gathering in her lower lip. "Close your eyes."

"Why?"

"Just do it, okay?"

"Not until you tell me _why_."

He rolled his eyes in frustration. "Okay, have it your way," and he scooped her up in his arms, and the earth fell away.

Maura felt a _whoosh_ as they left the ground. She would have screamed, but only managed a tiny squeak before clutching Nick's neck in a death grip. Suddenly she was stone cold sober.

"Holy shit! You could warn a person!"

"Then it wouldn't be a surprise." He grinned at her, thoroughly pleased with himself. "Merry Christmas, Maura."

Once she caught her breath, she looked out at the night sky that surrounded them. It was a fine, clear night and they seemed to be floating into the stars, stars that in turn blended with the sparkling Toronto skyline. The full moon made the snow below them glow blue-white. "Omigod, oh Nick, this is _awesome_!"

"Wait'll I show you something else," and he took them to the CN Tower, setting them down on the long-closed observation deck well away from the spotlights where they wouldn't be seen. Maura knew her eyes were bugging out as she took in the city below them.

"And you don't have to dust it," he teased. She turned to him as he put his arms around her.

"I _so_ love you to bits, Maura Logue." His voice was quiet and warm, the way he spoke to her when they were alone at home. The city sounds drifted up from the street.

"It sounds like music," she murmured. A little overcome, she pressed her face into his shoulder.

"Hey, hey, what's this?" He lifted her chin so she had to look at him. Her eyes were bright, but not with tears.

"I forgot to thank Janette. That's terrible."

He was confused. "Janette?"

"Yeah. Remember, she gave me a job when nobody else would. She gave me a place to start a life, and she introduced you to me. This is all because of her." She suppressed a laugh. "Wouldn't it kill her to know that."

Nick's amused expression was contagious, and they both laughed out loud at the unspoken joke.

"C'mon, I'll fly you home the scenic route. Unless of course you have something to top this," he swept his hand around them, more than a little proudly.

"I don't _think_ so... you guys are such grandstanders."

When they arrived home Maura was a bit chilled, so Nick got the fire turned up in the gas fireplace and started to bundle her up in a blanket.

"Hey, what is it with this babying stuff?" she protested, pushing him away. "Unless you're starting to believe LaCroix, that you've got a pet to take care of."

"Not until I get you de-clawed, I don't." Nick dropped the blanket and went to the kitchen to get a bottle.

"I'll be right back, I wanna get out of my party clothes." She bounced up the stairs and stopped short when she saw what was laid out on the bed. When the hell could he have done that? Arranged artfully across the quilt was a gorgeous kimono crafted of silks, velvets, and furs. It obviously came from the same source as those owned by himself and Janette. The lining was a ripple-cut silk velvet, like the stuffed animals Maura always was compelled to clutch and pet whenever she saw them in a shop. The colors ranged from burgundy to mahogany browns and the deepest emeralds, guaranteed to set off her hair and eyes and complexion. With barely a pause, she tore carelessly out of her clothes and wrapped herself up in it. Oh my god, she nearly swooned, it was so soft and warm, reaching to her feet and the tips of her fingers. It was bound by a wide, heavy sash made from silk and velvet, ending in long soft fringes. She was beginning to feel like this Christmas was going to go on forever.

She managed to make it down the stairs in fairly regal fashion, trying hard not to trip on the overlong hem. Nick's face was absolutely glowing – or was it the firelight – when she swept to a stop in front of where he was pretending to read.

"You forgot the slippers," she deadpanned, but he reached behind him with a flourish and pulled out a pair of purple plush bunny slippers.

"To complete the ensemble," he explained as she cracked up.

"_Bunny slippers!_" she howled, "You dress me up like an empress, and give me _bunny slippers_?"

He shrugged. "I dunno, _I_ think they work..." She dove into his arms where he sat on the floor propped against the sofa.

"You're starting to scare me. Is this gonna be, like, a potlatch or something? Like I can't possibly top you, so into the fire I go?"

He considered this. "There's a thought... nah. I just figured you'd gone your whole life without Christmas, it's time to catch up."

She settled back against him, feeling absolutely clichéd as they watched the flames. "I may not need another Christmas as long as I live."

"Oh, don't say that, you'll spoil my fun."

Maura lay back with her head in the hollow of Nick's shoulder, his arm wrapped around, fingers idly playing on her skin at the edge of the loose collar of the kimono. Skin to velvet, velvet to skin, until it was difficult for him to tell one from another. She took his hand, finally, and kissed the palm, and the inside of his wrist where she would drink if she were going to join him. She turned her face up to his and looked at him a long moment before reaching up to run her hand behind his head. As she deepened the kiss and turned to face him, wound tighter to him, the old protective reflex stirred. She felt his hesitation, less than a beat of the one heart between them, and whispered against his cheek, "No. You can't hurt me, because I'm not afraid. You can't hurt me because you haven't betrayed me. I love you, and you can't hurt me," her voice was at once persuasive and childishly stubborn. She stopped his forceless protest with more kisses, took the hands that tried to pull away and filled them with kisses, I love you Nick, I love you, I'm not afraid of you, don't be afraid of me. And for the first time in his long divided life, before and after 800 years, he breathed, "Yes." and, because she was the one deciding, his fears for her were calmed. No lies, no tricks or betrayal, no false obedience, just her choosing _him_, as he was, not in spite but because, persuading _him_, she covered him in kisses, every touch a kiss and every kiss touching the heart he swore he didn't have, until now. Until now.

Maura moved to Nick's lap, distracting him with kisses, eyes and hair and chin and neck, kisses where each button was pulled apart, kisses on his hands and wrists and where the pale hard muscled shoulders came loose from the eternal shelter of his clothes, kisses trailing on his chest, she bathed him in them and felt him giving himself up, no longer the hunter, the taker, now the needed, wanted, loved. She soothed the feral passions away as they came, calmed with kisses to still the growl in his throat, to fade the gold from his eyes, gentle the steel from his grip. There would be no bruises this time, no reproach. And when his mouth opened between the kisses he covered her with in return, she touched light fingers to fang tips and said "No, not this time, this time you love me in my world, I've loved you in yours, it's my turn now," and the fangs receded and growls turned to deep murmurs as she pressed him to his back on the thick rug, and covered him warm, not burning uncontrolled flames, but warm and embracing like the sunshine he'd forsaken so long ago and missed so painfully. Something shifted inside him, and for now, right now, he wasn't a despised creature or a mistaken creation, but just a man, wanting to touch and hold and breathe and feel warmth, softness, Sweet, he whispered, Sweet. Please I want to know, I want to remember what I've never had, just this once. And somewhere in the waves of kisses now there was just skin, skin and her kimono covering them as she stroked the parts of him that had forgotten what tenderness was, the places he feared the most because they had always turned his passion to rage. "You can't hurt me," she promised into his mouth and he returned against her skin, "Never," and when she settled on him the completeness of the connection, the keenness of the ache in him, were almost too much and he turned his head and shut his eyes so he wouldn't have to see hers ask him why he'd waited so long. Then he turned sharply to look up at her, tightened his embrace in a rush of sensation, and the eyes looking into hers were clear blue, the voice quiet and gentle, the words so human. "Ma doucette," and he rolled her to her side, and locked them together, but this time she led the dance whose steps he'd forgotten, if he'd ever known them at all.

He fit her so perfectly, held her so completely, kissed and clung and urged and moaned her name, and the surges that shot through her matched the lights in her head. Something magic was in him, the same magic as when he took her in his own way, different now because he was accepting her, finally, in hers. Pleasure beyond pleasure, it wasn't just the rarity of his biology but their connection itself, so complete even before this. She thought she'd been in control of this, but she was so wrong, as he rolled her beneath him and mastered their rhythm, no fear, no violence, the doubts that had kept him apart abandoned him now. Gasps and whimpers escaped her, words dissolved into purer sounds until finally she was reduced to holding on for dear life as she had earlier when he flew them over the city, only now he flew them somewhere entirely different. "Sweet, sweet, ma doucette," he repeated like a mantra, his face resting against hers, soft whiskers stroking her cheek with every movement, his hands moving and exploring and petting her in contrast to her own tight grip round his back.

The ache in him grew, its keenness grew, and at the same time he reached for his climax he dreaded its finality. He wanted it to last forever, this complete joining apart from blood that somehow brought him the same full knowledge of her, and himself as well. He cried out as the fire blossomed and exploded in him, heard her calling his name as if from a great distance, and he couldn't seem to stop moving and caressing, trying so hard to keep it from ending, but the ache disappeared in that final explosion even as the warmth remained. And softness, and the sound of a single heartbeat coming back to earth. Somewhere in his sensible mind he took care to move so he wouldn't press her too hard, then let his strength leave him entirely, his face resting against Maura's neck, mouth pressed to the place he was always drawn to, where he felt her life beat with a pulse that now left him strangely untempted.

"See, you can't hurt me," she barely whispered, not having regained her breath. He felt her hand moving in his hair, stroking as if to comfort him. When he lifted his head from her she could see the tears, pink trails on his face, in the firelight. "Oh, don't," she told him, "don't," and hugged him tight against her. "Ssh, it's all right, really, you were just trying to keep me safe." She tried to think of more wise words, but he faced her again with the smile that said all things, and nuzzled her cheek before rolling onto his back and wrapping her kimono around them both. He hugged her so tight she could barely breathe, rubbed her back over and over, loving the feel of her as her breath and heartbeat slowed to normal.

"That was very reckless of you. How could you possibly know ?" He felt her smile against his skin.

"I know _you_."

"And I don't."

"Nope, not very often. You know history, you know habit, but you haven't really gotten to know _you_ even after all those centuries and lives." They shifted so she was on her back as he leaned above her on an elbow.

"You've _always _been 'you'," he told her, "I've been so many people, had so many lives, all I could ever be sure of is what I used to be before, and what..." he didn't want to say the name, not now, "what _he_ made me became the only constant."

She traced a finger along his lower lip and he caught it briefly in his teeth before kissing it. "I'm no philosopher-shrink, okay?" she told him, "I love who you are, I don't care how you got that way." He dropped his head to her shoulder with a laugh.

"So you're the cowboy and I'm Marilyn Monroe. Interesting."

"Not so different," she was embarrassed by being caught out in a direct steal from the movies. "You think you're not good enough, and I know you are."

"I'll try to take your word for it." She saw such sadness under the gentle smile, so familiar, she couldn't keep quiet about it any longer.

"I can't not ask you anymore, Nick, _why_, why is it every sweet and caring thing you do makes you so sad? Even this, sharing more than just my blood, you still seem hurt or frightened by it."

Nick took her hand and pressed his lips into the palm before going on. "For a vampire, there is no 'sharing', there is only taking. Need, loneliness, hunger, and thirst are all one and the only satisfaction of them is _taking_, every drop and essence of a victim or even a lover. When a mortal is the object the only real fulfillment results in death, which leaves you empty again and hunting for the next fulfillment. I've had mortal women before, I've made love to them and drunk from them without killing them at the time but for me it was really just an extended bout of foreplay. In the end, the kill was all. There wasn't ever a 'little death' for me without true death for the other." When he'd finished she was stroking his beard, his face, the lines around his eyes, over and over, trying to soothe the bad memories away. She certainly understood by now, he hadn't needed to draw her a map, that for any vampire the only true sexual satisfaction came from sex and blood, simultaneously, completely distinct from merely feeding. Feeding was survival, hunting was the game that made it more pleasurable and powerful, but true carnal passion for physical connection could only be satisfied by human and vampire lovemaking combined. Though Nick had learned he could engage in the latter without the former, the opposite had seemed impossible.

When Nick's physical need became too great to ignore, Maura knew he went to Janette. Only a vampire could share a vampire's lust and survive. She knew it wasn't only out of concern for her safety, but to indulge his physical passion completely that he sought out his lifelong lover. She always knew when it happened, he'd have been strained and distant, perhaps he'd have recently drunk from her more frequently than usual. What mortals would laugh at as "horniness" went to the bone in Nick's kind, taking hold deeper and more fiercely until there was no turning away from it. And for the past hundred years, since forswearing killing, Nick had found his connection with Janette. Though she wished she could give Nick everything he needed, Maura was glad that Janette was there. He'd come back calmer, relaxed and less on edge when Maura was close to him, but his improved temper would be laced with guilt. It bothered him that Maura didn't have a similar source of solace, even though she'd tried to explain to him it was different for her, for mortals. "It's not that I'm being noble or 'faithful', you have to believe me I was never the martyr type. I just don't _want_ anyone else. It's different, Nick, we're different that way, sex for me is part of the big picture. Please, don't let it bother you so much. I don't have trouble with it, so don't you either." It was a futile debate, of course.

After more silent flame-staring they made their way to bed. As the sun rose, with the harmless sliver of light prying its way through the shade to dance in the antique mirror, Nick lay watching Maura sleep. She wasn't nearly as beautiful as most of the women he'd known, wasn't as graceful or elegant, didn't possess the fragile charm that had often attracted him. She met him equally, challenged his long-held assumptions about himself and the world and occasionally (though not always) proved them wrong. It wasn't that she was so wise or brilliant, but that she found certain assumptions annoying and limiting. She had little patience with "bullshit" and _anything_ Maura saw as foolish or ill-informed she regarded as "bullshit". She could be wrong as often as right, but maddeningly persistent in both cases. When she _was_ right, and pried him from his illusions, the results were formidable.


	4. Chapter 4

Even as a mortal, Nicolas de Brabant used his charm and good looks to entice women into his bed. Once there, his regard for them ended. If the woman who caught his eye would not be enticed, she could be forced. It was all the same, the goal was to have her. Sex was the reward of power, and once he was made a knight, an agent of the king, Nicolas used his title and its protection to wield his power at every possible opportunity. Tenderness was for virginal fantasies, and passion was irrevocably wedded to selfish entertainment. Even the willing were treated roughly, power adding to pleasure. Taking was everything.

Once LaCroix brought him across, his power was limitless and the "rewards" equally so. He perfected his skills of deception, betrayal acting as an additional aphrodisiac. Now the taking was complete, trust, sex, blood, life. The ultimate sexual satisfaction, each conquest was measured not only by orgasm but by death. The love he imagined from time to time, the counterfeit regret and conflict that grew in him as the time for killing drew near, was overcome by the moment itself. And all regret faded with the final heartbeat, as he became consumed with need to find another. By the time he was overtaken by conscience, physical passion was indistinguishable from abuse and death. When Maura first suggested that his sexual violence may have been a function of habit and not nature, he swept the notion aside because it was utterly foreign to his experience. 700 years of carnal and spiritual depravity, following upon his own mortal excesses, reinforced his belief that no mortal could survive his intimate attentions.

He knew Maura welcomed rather than endured him as a vampire lover in the only way he believed himself capable. But he had also been keenly aware of her desire for mortal pleasure. She had joined him in his world and had done it freely. And he had Janette to assuage his physical needs, where Maura had no-one. He need only have believed in himself as she knew him to have realized his mistake. Everything in its time, he had learned over the centuries, but how it must have hurt her. Not just physical longing, but his reluctance to trust her. "You never _believe_," she had told him over and over, in other matters as well, the words always spoken in frustration. Well, now he knew. Maura hadn't told him or taught him or argued him into submission; as always he simply tired of listening to his own doubts and gave himself up to whatever would happen. It was a small thing to separate sharing her blood from sharing their bodies, he felt, now that he knew it was possible.

Feeling very enlightened, wrapped in a reverie that was the stuff of grand romance, Nick slid closer to where Maura lay, pressing against her head to foot, kissing her soft shoulder and running his fingers along her back. "I'm so sorry, Sweet" he whispered.

Maura's face was pressed into the pillow. As always she engaged in sleep like a wanton throwing herself into a debauch, fully and without reservation, and grasping it fiercely. "Mmph," she grunted, unwilling to be pulled from her slumber.

Nick kissed her hair, tried to brush it aside, repeating, "I was wrong, I'm so sorry."

"Whathafuck?" she mumbled, barely coherent, and one red-and-green eye opened to look at him in confusion. "'Sorry' _again_?" Too late to sink back into sleep, she realized, and rolled back a bit to look at him with _both_ red-and-green eyes. Well he looked wide-awake, anyway. "You got laid with no fatalities for the first time in eight hundred years, and you're _sorry_? Well excuse the hell out of _me. _ Now you can wait another eight hundred, feel better?"

This wasn't quite in keeping with Nick's romantic fantasy. Seeing his expression turn from rapture to disappointment, she sighed. He was so freaking _fragile_ sometimes.

"C'mere," and she pulled him over for a kiss. "I love you, I love you _so_ much I can't stand it sometimes. And you have no idea what _hell_ it's been to try to make you listen to reason, so last night I just went for broke. Really, if I couldn't convince you last night of all nights, I knew it was a lost cause. You think I _knew_ you wouldn't go all beasty, when you were so convinced of it, and when I'd seen it before? Maybe 60 or 70 sure, but I guess I've bet my life on less and won. I mean, I know you love me and I know you didn't _want_ to hurt me, so I pretty much counted on that. I knew you wouldn't be anybody you shouldn't be... I just hoped what you should be wouldn't do me in by accident."

Nick was lying on his back now, staring at the ceiling. Everyone he knew told him he was addicted to angst. Even Janette berated him at times for his "attachment to the Byronesque". But the rosy glow of his morning-after mood was more than a little dampened by his all-too-pragmatic doucette, and he was well on his way into a snit.

"Bats, don't be like that," and he didn't move so she went to him, leaned against his shoulder and kissed his cheek. "Nicolas, why does everything have to be so incredibly _deep_? I _love _you, I wanted you more last night than anyone I've ever known in my whole miserable hunted life. For the first time ever, I was held instead of _subdued_. I was with you of my own choice and desire, not as some shitty trade-off to stay alive. I'm sorry if I haven't lived long enough or haven't known enough world-class philosophers and poets to dress it all up with pretty words. I need a collaborator and a band for that, remember? Don't be 'sorry', I don't _need_ you to be sorry, or transformed, or anything earth shattering. I just want you to _love_ me, and live with me, and figure out this is where and who you belong. Okay? I mean, the rest is like frosting on the cake, it's real pretty but too much of it makes me queasy."

Now he turned his head to look at her. "I have known people who could define the physical act of love in phrases and couplets of such exquisite beauty that they would make you weep. You distilled it into three soulless words: 'you got laid'."

She shook her head in disbelief. "Well now _I'm_ sorry, but not all of us have forever to express ourselves. If you're gonna regress to the Renaissance, I'm in big trouble." They stared at one another for a moment, then Nick reached out and pulled Maura into his arms.

"Sweet, you were in big trouble the first night you came here, you were just too stubborn to admit it."

"I'm sorry, but you gotta face it, I will never be the full-bore romantic type, okay? Life, or my excuse for it, has pretty much slapped all of the warm fuzzies out of me."

He squeezed her tighter and kissed her hair, her face, her hands. "Well then that's something _you_ can learn from _me_. I know that inside that no-frills exterior are a whole bundle of warm fuzzies just waiting to bust loose. You just have to get out of their way."

"So I'm supposed to believe a vampire is an expert on warm fuzzies."

He smiled "that" smile. "I believed a mortal could subdue my darker instincts, didn't I?"

"Bullshit. I just worked you over until you got carried away. All you 'believed' was what you were feeling at the time. Which was all part of my master plan, bwahahahaha." She continued to snicker wickedly as she kissed and nibbled his neck and shoulders. "See how much fun you can have when you just _loosen up_?" She was leaning over him now, her hair tickling his skin.

"A 'master plan', huh?"

"Well it worked, didn't it?"

He shook his head and pulled her down to him. "You had me right where I wanted you..."

"Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit. I seduced the Great Seducer, and not a drop of blood shed. Quick, call the Enforcers." He didn't answer but occupied himself by scattering slow kisses from her elbow along the impossibly soft skin of her inner arm moving lazily toward her hand.

"Y'know," she mused as Nick ran his lips idly over her palm, "that there's a warm and fuzzy I could really get used to."

He pressed a kiss in her palm before asking, "What's that?"

"What you're doing."

"Mmm, I see," he gave her tiny pecks up the inside of her wrist, to her shoulder, ending on her cheek. Don't be fooled, I'm just tasting you for later."

"You're the only vampire I've known who did that, really. All that crap in the movies and cheesy novels about the 'vampire's kiss' and trust me, there ain't no such thing. Nobody I ever met did anything but _bite_ and usually not too nicely either."

He leaned on an elbow, fascinated. "You're serious, aren't you? Well I never imagined I'd meet anyone who thought kisses were _exotic_."

Maura frowned a little, remembering. "You would if you never had any."

Now he laughed. "Oh, come on. Sweet whatever, and never been kissed?" Then he saw the look on her face, and stopped laughing.

"I never told you the story of how I got here, did I?" She was lying on her back, gazing at the ceiling as if into the past.

"Just that you'd had enough of Vancouver. Though I always suspected there was more. I figured you'd tell me when you were ready."

She smiled, still not looking at him. "That's one of the things I love about you, the world's first kissy vampire is also the world's first detective who doesn't ask too many questions. Well it was like this. I'd been living with this guy, this _mortal_, if you can believe it, Jerry was his name. All Goth and shit, dark and deep and all. But I was tired, you know? I wanted just _once_ to be with somebody who had an expiration date, like me. Someone who only preferred the dark instead of _needing_ it. He was smart, and funny, and good looking, and had oodles of money and artistic taste, and for the first time it seemed like a mortal was _interested _in me. I mean, he knew all about me and didn't think I was some freak. Of course looking back I know now that what he loved about me was that I was the closest he'd ever get to the real thing, if you know what I mean. He kept wanting to go out on the new moon, I guess to use me as bait. Shoulda let him, he'd have passed out cold if he really met one of you guys. The vamp community thought he was such an annoying poser they wouldn't touch him. He did love to hear the stories, and I loved to think I had someone who would listen. Some therapist, he just got off on it I guess. But I believed, how I believed I had the love of my life, who would listen and care and be there for me. And brother, what a hot pants case, he would really get put out if I didn't put out. He even pretended to bite me like you do, how sick is that? But I didn't mind, I was _so_ in love with the notion of having a normal relationship with someone who cared about _me_, didn't just use me as an in-house drug supply or living party favor, that I developed very selective awareness. I moved in with him and stayed there for almost a year. Not for protection or anything, I was better at taking care of myself at that point than he was. Anyway one night when we were leaving some bleak club or other, I saw him kissing some friend goodbye, just some girl he'd known awhile, and on the way home I asked him hey, how come you never kiss _me_? I mean he _never_, not once, for all of his not being able to keep his hands off me in every other way. I just let it go all that time, figuring if that was all that was missing, who cared. But finally I needed to know, who knows why that night. And what he said, well I guess he never really _lied_ to me but what he said put it out in plain English." She paused, her frown deepening, and didn't go on until Nick prompted quietly "What?"

"He said, as casual as you please, 'sex is fun, but kisses are for the people who _really_ matter'. Just like that, no apology, not even any meanness, just matter of fact like I should have known all along. Maybe I should have." Nick said nothing, only paused in winding a strand of her hair through his fingers to run the back of a fingertip along her cheek, waiting for more. "But like they say in Munchkinland, I didn't need a house to fall on me, so he got his goodbye fuck that night and next morning I packed my shit and went to the airport. The flight leaving soonest was for Toronto so I got a one-way ticket and a few days later was knocking on Janette's door. And the rest is infamy." Nick was lying very close by her side now, cradling her head in his arm, tracing her cheek with the other hand. "I just wanted you to know, for all my wanting to get in your pants and everything, that the most important things I already found here. If sex came to mean violence and death to you, it came to mean selling out to me. Just so you know we both have our Dr. Ruth issues." She turned her head then to look him in the eye, and he rested his forehead against hers.

"Dr. Ruth would find this a challenge, but I'm glad you told me. And I know you didn't just want to get into my pants, or you wouldn't still be here."

She tried to deflect his seriousness again. "Oh, I dunno, I'd say it was worth hanging around for." His expression didn't change.

"You do really matter, doucette. You really matter more than anyone in my life, and if you ever wonder about that just tell me and I'll remind you again." He kissed her now, along her jaw and across her lower lip, kisses in her hair and warm nuzzles at her ear, her neck. "And there _is_ such a thing," he insisted, knowing she'd know what he meant. She met his mouth with her own, drawing in his velvet tongue and losing herself in his arms until he drew back and kissed the tip of her nose. "So there."

Maura's story about Jerry stayed with Nick, taking such deep root he resolved, as he did for Christmas, to make up for what she'd been deprived of for so long. He showered her with kisses, kisses to wake her and send her to sleep, kisses hello and how are you, good morning and good night and 'what's shakin' Sweet?', and kisses to interrupt her as she made her dinner. He even kissed her hello on the rare occasions she came by the precinct when he was working late and Vachon dropped her off to ride home with him. No matter who he was talking to (usually Schanke) or who was around, he dropped what he was doing to touch her face and give her a kiss and a warm hug.

"You have become a real smooch hound," she told him one night after he'd impulsively pressed her to the wall outside of Raven, in full view of the departing customers.

"Just tasting you for later," he promised in the 'noir' voice he knew flipped her switches. Because now he loved to flip them, loved how she would grab him the minute they shut the loft door behind them when he'd spoken to her in just that tone of voice.

"You are an audio aphrodisiac, Bats." She was glued to his back on the way to the car, hands jammed in his jacket pockets and gripping his belt through the lining. He pulled loose to kiss her into the Caddy.

"Think of it as aural sex," he teased darkly.

Life, or the nearest they were likely to get to it, was getting very good.


End file.
